Flowers for the Gardener

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

A subtle shift, but sure enough, Richard straightened; his shoulders went back, his jaw clenched. Hands fisted. Ethan hit more than a nerve.

“You’re full of manure.”

So, Richard tried to be witty with his retaliation, but his gaze burned. Best thing to do was not to react. To tidy away the tea things. To let so much happening here go unnoticed, though Ethan’s skin tingled under the other man’s stare. He took his time before replying.

“You’re the one filled with s**t. A dislike of the business ain’t the reason you stayed away. I know what your father was like. Your mother’s opinions don’t much differ.”

“Don’t talk of my mother. Don’t mention my relatives.”

“Defensive. Protective of your folks even when you disagree with ‘em. I like it. I’m the same.” He would think less of Richard if the man reacted any other way. “But what you gonna do now you’re back? Take over the company? Potter around in a mausoleum? Marry the first girl your mother approves of? Bring children into the world to condemn them to a carbon copy of your life?”

Every time he spoke, he struck a blow, though he didn’t expect to create such an impact. His boss flinched at the end of every sentence. His body bent. He ended up falling into one of the rickety chairs they kept in the shed. With his elbows on his knees, Richard stared at his palms. The reaction shocked Ethan into silence. By the time he found his voice, his tongue lay heavy in his mouth and his jaw ached.

“s**t. I didn’t mean to knock the stuffing outta you.”

“Yes, you did.”

He hadn’t, though. Cause some upset, perhaps, but not…this. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause Richard distress. “Not what I want. Not at all.” From where did the words come? Why confess?

A thin smile made a gash of Richard’s lips. “Of course it is. Nothing better than the rich man’s son brought low by the…” The sentence ran out, unfinished, drawing lines across Richard’s brow. The man focused on his hands, which he rotated over and examined. At what did he look?

“Finish what you were saying.”

Richard shook his head. “You won’t be pleased.”

“I know I won’t, but I wanna hear you say it.”

Richard’s bright gaze flicked up. “The rich man’s son brought low by the domestic help. The servants.”

For a second, Ethan’s blood simmered. He pushed the emotions threatening to bring him to the boil aside. “That’s your mother talking.” Hoped so, anyhow.

“No. No it’s not. It’s me. My view.”

This time, his heart plummeted.

“Not the way it sounds. Not as a barb.” Richard examined his hands again. “Can’t believe I got my hands dirty.” A lost type of wonderment made his tone wistful. When next he spoke, his voice grated, shredding the air. “I hate it. I loathe everything. Can’t stand the house. Don’t want to live in it. Can’t…Won’t marry someone I will never love and there’s a conversation in my future I’m not looking forward to. No doubt going to happen sooner than later now.”

“Why?”

“Because you will…I mean, aren’t you…?”

What was Richard saying? Realisation widened Ethan’s eyes to straining point. “You think I’m blackmailing you?”

“I don’t…”

The other man sounded lost again, young, but Ethan didn’t need any more fertiliser. “Is that what you think’s going on here?” Feet now striding out, back and forth, over a creaky floorboard because he needed to pace, gave the atmosphere in the shed a gothic quality. The noise made him stop moving as much as Richard watching his every step. “Well, if it don’t beat all. f**k you, Richard Gardener. Of all the things you ever done, such a paltry expectation makes me hate you.”

“I thought you detested me.”

A laugh barked out of him; at the sound, his boss hunched over, though Ethan couldn’t care why. “Yeah, I imagine you do. I never hated you. Disliked, but nothing like despise. And I don’t blackmail. Tell your mother you’re gay, or don’t tell her. No difference to me.”

Liar. Ethan buried the incriminating evidence of feelings long ignored.

“Well…if it’s not…Why mention my being…”

Not for the first time, Richard broke off. Did the man always struggle to complete sentences? Yes, if Ethan wasn’t mistaken. Many habits, patterns of behaviour, were best broken. “You’re gay. Get used to the idea.”

“I am.” Colour rode Richard’s cheekbones once more but this time the cause seemed to be anger. “I’m not a…a virgin.”

A familiar amusement washed back in. Why did Richard always do this to him? Make Ethan’s emotions blow fierce and freezing? “Fine. Bully for you. Who was the lucky man?”

“f**k you.”

“I wish…” Perfect opening and he froze, chewing on a lip, annoyed with his resistance. Now or never. An apt and true cliché. Ethan fought to free his jaw. “I wish you would.”